


Synthetic Waltz

by katsa5



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Dancing, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsa5/pseuds/katsa5
Summary: The wilderness of the Commonwealth wastelands is a horrible place, but there is still joy in small moments.
Kudos: 2





	Synthetic Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> This small story was written in April, 2014; a quick project I was working on when I was supposed to be studying. I had no intention of sharing it, as my creative confidence was at a severe low at the time. I thought it was lost forever to time, until I was cleaning out old computer files and “Behold!” there it was! Looking back, it's actually quite cute. Let's share now.   
> Garrett is my original character instead of Nate, who is pretty much a blank slate anyway. Also, “Come and Go with Me” by The Del-Vikings is not in the original game. The song was the inspiration.
> 
> Suggested Music:  
> Fallout World Radio, of course! Live stream here: https://youtu.be/tzBGEqkwCoY

The night was dark. Garrett could never get used to such darkness. When he began navigating the wasteland, he would mentally search for the tiniest glimmer of a civilized light, whether from a street post or a porch light. There was no point, and he knew it, so he chalked it up to longing for home. Nowadays, he sought only the earliest indication of an enemy. 

The only light in the night was the Milky Way galaxy above and the bright orange glow from their lantern resting next to him on the wood floor of the open-air shack that stood upon rafters high above the marshy waters. The only sound was the distant clicky-clack of mirelurk claws. Garrett stared into the darkness, anticipating any attack. The shack itself may have been lived in at some time. Its shelves were empty save for discarded dusty Nuka Cola bottles and rusted tin cans. A nearly rotting mattress was shoved into a corner. Garrett turned on the vacuum tube radio on the barely held-together table. Diamond City radio echoed with the tune of ‘Sixty-Minute Man.’

Sitting on the floor across from him was Nick Valentine. The old synth was focused on cleaning his revolver, which had retained some muck after being thrown into the swamp water by a too-well timed mirelurk smack. He looked up to see Garrett staring at him. With a faint smile, he stared back. 

Garrett had long told him that he had beautiful eyes. Clearly, he never looked in a mirror. His brown eyes framed by black hair were always so focused when fixing a machine and yet so gently empathetic when comforting another. 

Garrett’s eyes lit up as the radio began to play “Come and Go With Me”. It did not play often, but when it did, Nick noticed that Garrett would secretly grin to himself, or there was a slight skip in his step. Two things would make the serious man happy; that song was one.

Garrett stood up, and he began a gentle spin to the beat. Nick watched him intently as the man started to dance.

Garrett deftly spun around, and his open hand extended to Nick. The synth eyes widened in surprise, and then he shook his head with a growing smirk. In response, Garrett withdrew, shrugged, and resumed another spin. Nick watched him gyrate his hips as his lanky arms gently waved side to side. His head turned and revealed the tanned skin and collarbone under the collar of his military fatigues.

Nick put the gun down. For once, he wasn’t going to stand by and observe. With a quiet sigh, Nick Valentine stood up. It felt terribly awkward, but that rare bright smile Garrett gave him made it worth it. Nick blankly took his hand and found himself gently pulled into Garret’s arms. Feeling facetious, one of Garett’s hands widened and slid down the curve of Nick’s spine, pressing the synth tightly against his torso. For a second, Nick was distracted by the sensation of his body against his, then he rose to the challenge and grasped the back of Garrett’s head, staring straight into his eyes. Hand-in-hand, the two took three side-steps, and then Garrett clumsily tripped. Luckily, Nick was able to scoop him back to his feet. Garrett held him tightly and tried to do another spin, and Nick was bumped into the shelves. Nick stepped away in frustration, “Where did you learn to dance? The bar at the Base?”

Garrett miffed. “I never learned the formal ones, so what?”

“It shows. That was a train wreck .”

“Like you can do any better?”

Nick stood before him defiantly, “I’m leading. Think you can keep up?” Nick grasped one hand and placed the other on Garret’s opposite forearm, who followed him. Garrett shifted his eyes between Nick’s eyes and his feet, suddenly very unsure of what he was doing. “Two steps back, one step aside, then forward.” Garrett shuffled at first, keeping Nick at arm’s length nervously, but soon he was stepping more confidently in time. Then he began to move closer to Nick. “Ready for another?”

Garrett stuttered. “Maybe.”

“Take two steps then two forward. Faster this time.”

“I know this one.” Garrett said more confidently. He then twirled Nick and dipped him back. 

“Hey!” The synth was aghast in surprise as his feet flew in the air, “Put me down before you knock over the whole building!” Garrett deftly placed him back on his feet, smirking at him, “You always were a fast learner.”

_*“You learned ballroom dancing? You didn’t have to do that.”_

_“I want to dance with you at our wedding, Jenny.”_

_“I love you!”*_

Nick returned to the sounds of a playful commercial for Abraxo cleaner and Garrett staring at him. “Another flash?”

“. . . Yeah.” He answered flatly. 

“What did you see?”

“A wood floor and a mirrored wall. A dance studio, I think. And . . . Jenny.”

Garrett knew not to ask further. He reached out to grasp Nick’s shoulder, but the synth slowly turned and stepped away to light a cigarette. While this particular flash felt like any other harsh bungee cord leap back into the reality of a robot in the wasteland, any memory with Jenny was especially harsh. “I’m sorry.” He heard Garrett mutter. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” He answered, staring off into the night as he processed the memories. “It’s not you. It’s not your fault at all.” His metal and plastic hands clenched tightly as familiar feelings of a decrepit replicant’s realization rushed through.

Silence brought him back. Nick heard Garrett turn off the radio while returning to standing watch, and he felt sharp pangs of guilt. He remembered how that man had also suffered loss. When they first met, it clearly left him withdrawn, in pain, alone but not afraid. He had come so far since then, and Nick felt honored witnessing it. The Wasteland rarely afforded them happiness, so every moment had to be treasured. He needed to be in the present and be with the human man who chose him. Quietly, he approached him. As he tossed the cigarette into the water, he turned the radio back on. “Crazy, He Calls Me” began playing. “Garrett?”

He turned to see Nick taking a slight bow and extending his mechanical hand to him, “May I have this dance?”

Garrett paused in concern, “Are you sure?”

“Lightning won’t strike twice, I’ll be fine.”

He then smirked as he accepted Nick’s invitation, flesh and metal fingers tenderly entwined together as they stood before each other tenderly gazing . Garrett’s hand boldly slid under Nick’s coat and affectionately held his back. Nick followed. Slowly following the baritone tune, they waltzed in a small circle within the shack. 

The lantern dimmed as the oil slowly depleted. Nick was sitting against the wall, listening to the quiet environment for any intrusions. His tie and coat were draped over table, with Garrett’s military jacket and shirt draped next to it. Garrett slept with his head in Nick’s lap, who rested his metal hand affectionately on Garret’s arm. A clacking hissy sounded dangerously close. Nick remained frozen as waves splashed against the shack’s supports as a mirelurk swan away, seemingly never noticing them.

Morning will come soon, and they will be on the road again. But now for now, he thought as he delicately ran his fingers through the other’s hair, they were resting.


End file.
